


Birthday Cake

by bodtlings



Series: Baking Shenanigans [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery, M/M, and eren's birthday cmon, and there's no jean sorry, ayeee another aside looky here!, but - Freeform, eremins, this is very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:29:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3650358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodtlings/pseuds/bodtlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to The Flour Patch!<br/>We're sorry to inform you that we're closing a little early today. We'll be back to normal hours tomorrow!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Cake

**Author's Note:**

> aye aye another aside! this is for eren jaeger, light of my life, for his birthday today. enjoy my lil cupcakes <3

Eren is so, so unbearably worried when on the morning of March 30th, a _Monday_ , no less, Armin is awake.

Armin is actually awake before _he_ is, and that speaks significant volumes, considering Armin’s brain is on par with that of the living dead if he doesn’t wake up on his own. Every morning Eren pushes him to the train station, pushes him _onto_ the train, pushes him off the platform, and down the 11 blocks to the bakery. Even when they get there, Armin sleeps for an extra hour and fifteen before he actually has to be cognizant enough to start his day.

In short, Armin Arlert is rarely ever, _ever_ , awake on his own. Ever.

Needless to say, the jolt Eren gives in bed when he hears the creak of the shower handles turning off and hitting his head on the headboard is entirely warranted.

Armin emerges from the steamed bathroom, dressed in his black polo shirt with the bakery logo and the black skinny jeans he wears with it. He’s shaking the towel over his hair, drying as much of it as he can without the blowdryer, and emerges from beneath it with threads of blonde going every which way.

It’s a change of scenery for Eren when waking up, but it elicits the softest (and sleepiest) of smiles from him, anyway. He flops back into his pillow, ignoring the throbbing in his head in favor of pretending he’s still asleep, when the mattress dips beside his stomach and he feels Armin lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I know you’re awake. It certainly wasn’t me who caused that thump on the headboard a minute ago.”

Eren groans into his pillow, glad for the cover it provides so Armin can’t see he’s smiling, and nuzzles his face further into the sheets. “Five more minutes.”

“Not a chance.” Armin rips the pillow from his head, pulls the duvet from over his body to the foot of the bed, and, after giving it all of .3 seconds in thought, continues to whack Eren over the head with the pillow he tried to conceal himself with. 

“ _Oof,”_ is Eren’s only reply before he looks up at his damp-headed boyfriend, pout already on his lips. “No fair, I always let you sleep another five minutes in the morning. _And_ you use my shoulder to sleep on on the train, _and_ you sleep at the bakery!”

Armin stands from the bed and makes his way to their closet, sifting through fallen shirts and stray shoes to find Eren’s work uniform. When he does, he chucks the polo directly into Eren’s face along with his pants and folds his arms while Eren peeks through the black fabric. “Up.” 

He groans, but Eren slinks from the warmth and security his bed so generously provides and drags his feet into the shower.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning, boys! How’d you sleep?”

No matter how many days he’s already worked at the bakery, Eren will always be truly amazed at how much energy Marco has in the mornings. And if he fakes it, which Eren doesn’t believe he does, well, it’s still a skill to commend. 

“We slept well, thank you. And you? Did you sleep at _all?”_ Armin rolls up his sleeves, and to Eren’s surprise, heads right to his station instead of to his couch to sleep like he does every single morning. 

“A whole six hours, actually! Best sleep I’ve had in a while.” 

Marco and Armin pass chatter for a few minutes, and honestly, Eren is still standing in the doorway of the back entry to the bakery. Something is off, something is _so_ off about today and Eren can’t put his finger on it. Marco getting sleep, Armin waking up before him, Armin sitting on the train reading his textbook instead of sleeping on his shoulder, Armin not sleeping on the couch until a quarter to six like normal. There is something very, very wrong about today, and Eren makes a mental note to Google if there’s some sort of eclipse that’s happening later on his lunch break.

“Eren!”

“Hmm?” Eren blinks, unaware Armin was calling him, and tilts his head. “Yeah?”

“I said can you come help me with the scones? I can’t make the glaze as well as you do and you already know the recipe by heart.” 

“Oh, yeah. Coming.”

 

* * *

 

It’s a busy day at the bakery, but then again, it’s rarely quiet.

Everyone does what they are assigned to do, as per usual - Marco bakes more of what needs to be baked (those cinnamon raisin bagels are awfully popular today), Armin takes care of the register and switches with Eren when piping and decorating jobs are requested, and Eren, when not at the register, helps clean the tables, the utensils, and everything in between. 

Still, Eren feels something is just not right. Maybe it’s from waking up to a happy Armin and a happy Marco, but even the customers seem extra chipper today, walking in with a pep to their step and a glow to their auras. Not one rude person comes in, not one problem arises, and the attitudes of the patrons only add to the lighthearted and homey atmosphere.

Eren loves this feeling, because even though his home is wherever Armin is, this bakery has become his home as well. No matter the customer flow of the day, or the intensive amount of work everyone has to do, Eren feels at _home_ here, feels safe and confident in who he is and what he does to help Marco. So it’s not exactly an unsettling feeling overall, it’s just that something feels amiss, like he’s forgetting something important and is out of the loop on some inside joke everyone already knows. 

The day passes quickly as people come and go, and desserts are bought and eaten, and as the three of them are cleaning up, Eren has still not pinpointed this sense of misplacement. 

“Sorry everyone, but something important has come up tonight and we’ll need to close a little earlier. We’re sorry for the inconvenience.” Armin’s voice rings loud and still cheerful, despite the news of an early closing. He addresses everyone (all of five people that occupy the chairs) with confidence and grace, but he doesn’t really need it because these five people are all regulars who understand. They pack their things and bid farewell to the three staff members, promising their return again tomorrow.

The only one who is surprised about this “early closing” is Eren, because apparently Armin and Marco are all smiles and fully knowing. 

Eren feels left out again.

He chooses not to comment. 

Instead, he does his usual job of cleaning up, only faster, since they’re leaving earlier. For what reason he doesn’t know, but regardless, his job is his job.

Eren brings all the garbage out, helps Armin wipe down the tables and clean the counters. They count the money, move all the pastries into the fridge, and in no time at all, the ovens are shut down and all the mixers are unplugged. They’re ready to go home. 

“Good job today,” Eren shouts over his shoulder as he begins his trek to the staff room lockers to retrieve his coat and bag. A hand around his wrist stops him, and he looks back to see Armin with a bright grin and a intentional crinkle to his eyes. 

“You didn’t think we’d forget, did you?”

“Huh? Forget what?”

As they stand there in the hallway between the kitchen and the staff lounge, all the lights go off and Eren can see a faint glow coming from his station. He thinks he forgot to unplug something, inwardly cursing at his lack of efficiency, when Armin merely tugs him back into the kitchen, still smiling.

Eren didn’t leave anything unplugged and he didn’t forget to shut down a piece of equipment.

Marco’s just standing at his counter, a giant cake in his hands with “21” shaped candles lit and warmly burning, much like Eren’s cheeks.

Armin walks to stand beside Marco, and at the exact same time, cheer, “Happy birthday, Eren!” 

It’s been a long time since he’s had a birthday cake. After he moved in with Armin, he asked if they could just treat it like any normal day instead of making some grand show of it, and Armin, ever the understanding lover he is, agreed.

It’s been a long time since he celebrated his birthday with anyone, let alone celebrated.

But seeing Armin with the brightest expression he’s worn all day, and seeing Marco look so proud of himself for keeping his cake safely hidden in the fridge, Eren can’t help but burst into tears. 

“I hate you guys. _I_ didn’t even remember today was my birthday, what the hell.” 

Armin walks back over to Eren, gently sliding his hands to his cheeks and swiping away his tears with the pads of his thumbs. “No tears on your twenty-first, love.” 

“Is that why you woke up so early this morning, you idiot?” 

“Mmm, that might’ve been the reason. Wasn’t easy, you know.” 

Eren gives a shaky laugh, stray tears still cascading down his cheeks and onto Armin’s thumbs, before he leans down and places a gentle kiss to his beloved.

“I love you, you stupid goofball.”

“I love you too. Now come, we made it especially for you.”

Marco turns the lights back on, but leaves them dim, and gives Eren the biggest bearhug he can manage. Eren clings to his shirt, trying not to cry again and allowing himself to be happy at turning a new age with people he loves.

They crack jokes and laugh over chocolate cake with layers of raspberries and tea Marco had brought down from his apartment. Eren nearly chokes on a piece of cake after a bakery pun courtesy of Marco, and Armin rolls his eyes and chuckles more than helping Eren refrain from dying.

It’s a night well spent, and when Armin and Eren bid Marco goodnight, Eren laces their fingers and leads the way down 7th Avenue.

“That wasn’t very nice of you, you know. With the pillow this morning.” 

“You weren’t going to wake up otherwise, were you?” 

“True. But still, hitting the _birthday boy_ with his _own_ pillow on his _twenty-first_ birthday? Harsh, babe. I’m offended.”

Armin laughs and looks ahead, swinging their linked hands between them and leaning his head on Eren’s shoulder.

“I’ll be nicer next year, promise.” 

“Oooor you can be nice when we get home.”

Armin lifts his head up and winks. “That can be arranged.”

The train ride back to Merrick isn’t much of a long one, no more than forty-five minutes from Penn Station, but Eren is asleep not even five minutes after the train departs. Armin kisses Eren’s cheek, watching his breath fog up the glass in small puffs, and whispers more to himself than anyone else, “Happy birthday, bread boy.”


End file.
